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#14285959 Jan 12, 2020 at 06:12 AM
48 Posts
Name: Zu'beh

Affiliations: The Followers of Bwonsamdi, The Darkspear Tribe, The Knights of the Ebon Blade (in that order)


Skills: Death Knight of moderate power. Skilled necromancer. Very adept spirit medium specialized in putting the dead to rest. Skilled at bargaining with Loa. Knows a lot about Loa worship in general, and is useful in 'primitive' spiritual matters.


Appearance: Dark gray-brown skin, marked with rot. His hair is a wild tangle, thick in some places, corpse-thin in others. His eyes are the telltale icy blue of a Death Knight. He wears armor made of bone, which seems normal at a glance...but every so often one might notice it twitches, or a bony hand reach out from it; his armor is itself undead. His face is usually obscured by a mask. Despite his horrific appearance, if he forgoes his mask, his usual expression is an easygoing smile.


Who he is: Zu'beh is an old troll, one who remembers a world without a Horde. He has, all his life, been a followers of Bwonsamdi - his parents were worshippers and he quickly fell in with them. Death has always been his companion.

To him, there is no horror in it. It's the natural end of things. He believes it should be as peaceful as possible, and is quick to comfort the dying, or help shepherd a restless spirit on to their fate.

The Undead always concerned him, but as time passed and the Scourge grew ever more ascendant, that concern turned to determination. A few years after the Third War, he departed Kalimdor to go and fight them in the Eastern Plaguelands, assisting the Argent Dawn in their battle against the dread citadel Naxxramas.

It didn't go great. He doesn't remember the exact specifics, but he was brutally killed in an engagement with the Scourge. The next thing he remembers is Acherus...

Like so many Death Knights, he served the Lich King until Light's Hope - until he was freed. When that moment came, Zu'beh was horrified by what he'd become. He spent nearly a month lost, despondent...until he rationalized it to himself.

In his mind, Bwonsamdi was all powerful, and would not allow one of his faithful to suffer undeath. Therefore, if he was undead anyway, it must be Bwonsamdi's will. And so he convinced himself - though it may be more accurate to say he 'deluded himself' - that Bwonsamdi had chosen him to become undead. Zu'beh named himself a champion of Bwonsamdi's will, and departed to Northrend to face the undead there.

Ever since, he has served Bwonsamdi as ably in death as he had in life. It's anyone's guess how Bwonsamdi actually feels about his so-called 'champion', especially given his noted distaste for the undead. But if he has any objections to Zu'beh's service, he hasn't voiced them.

Zu'beh has a surprisingly pleasant and kind personality, albeit one that can be occasionally distressing, as he finds amusement in the macabre. He is, on the whole, generally trustworthy and pleasant...provided your goals don't contradict those of his Loa, of course. His loyalty to Bwonsamdi overcomes all - even his loyalty to his friends, or to the Horde.


Misc. Details:

- Zu'beh is constantly surrounded by a quiet buzzing sound. This comes from a colony of stinging insects that nest in his chest cavity. He's prone to vomiting them out in combat, and they might also seep from his wounds if his chest were pierced. It's pretty gross.

- Zu'beh does not have any sheaths or holsters for his weapons. Instead, if he needs to sheath them, he will simply place them against his armor in a sheathed position - and small hands will reach out from his undead armor to hold them tight until he needs to draw them again. (They're pygmy hands, don't worry.)
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#14285960 Jan 12, 2020 at 06:12 AM · Edited 7 months ago
48 Posts
Nazmir was quiet.

Well, 'quiet' was a relative term. The frogs still croaked, the insects still buzzed. Beasts still barked out their death cries as a stronger hunter ended them and tore into their still-warm flesh.

But it was all natural. The Blood Trolls were suppressed, lurking in their ruined hovels, or sent scurrying into the wilds. The Alliance was gone, nothing more than the occasional token expeditionary force left behind.

The war in Nazmir had ended - for now. And so Zu'beh contemplated the quiet.

He squatted, perched atop one of the half-ruined stone pillars that marked the path to the Necropolis. Beneath his death-mask, his icy blue eyes were shut as he contemplated.

Bwonsamdi, mighty Bwonsamdi...Zu'beh had not felt as at peace as he did now since his death. He had done good work during this conflict.

---

When the tales of Zandalar opening its borders to the Horde had reached him, he'd been on one of the first boats out (making the other passengers very uncomfortable). The guards in Dazar'alor had briefly given him some trouble, knowing of his ties to the KMG, but...

Well. Few were eager to cross one who claimed the favor of Bwonsamdi. And when he said he intended to travel to Nazmir, they were all too happy to let him pass. In their eyes, it was a self-solving problem; he would wander into the swamp and die.

Of course, Bwonsamdi had not seen fit to claim him. No, the Blood Trolls that had tried to ambush him had died, and he had made it to the Necropolis. Bwonsamdi had not seen fit to grant him a direct audience, but Zu'beh did not truly need one.

No, he just needed purpose. And he'd found it there. When the Blood Trolls came to the Necropolis, he slew them. When the spirits tried to escape Bwonsamdi's call, he guided them back to him - by force if need be. And when the Alliance came...

Even then, Zu'beh stood sentinel in the Necropolis, ready to fight and die in its defense if need be. Luckily, no such attack had been forthcoming, and Bwonsamdi's place of power was left alone. Wise, of course, for Zu'beh was certain that mighty Bwonsamdi would have struck the Alliance fools dead if they had dared trespass.

And then, joy of joys! Zu'beh hd borne witness to new...'pilgrims', making their way to the Necropolis, to beg Bwonsamdi's favor. From them he learned that Bwonsamdi was ascendant - that Rezan was dead, and Bwonsamdi himself was now the patron loa of the Zandalari crown!

Zu'beh felt no joy in Rezan's fall, of course. The Loa of Kings was a glorious spirit, and Azeroth was less for his departure. The death of a Loa was always a tragic thing. But how could he not celebrate at his own Loa's rise to glory?

Zu'beh himself had played only the smallest of parts in it, he knew. A minor guardian of the Necropolis, keeping Bwonsamdi's place of power safe - ensuring he still had a throne from which he could broker this deal. And yet...he HAD played a part, however small.

That filled him with more joy than he could put into words. He had a purpose - and he had fulfilled it. Wise Bwonsamdi had called him there for that reason.

---

...And yet. He hadn't had very long to dwell on this success. On the glory of Bwonsamdi's ascendance, on his joy. Here, in this place, so close to the Other Side...and through his own connection to Death...something felt...wrong.

More than that, he'd begun to feel a pull. A vague tugging northwards, towards the Frozen Throne. He'd felt it before, during the battle against the Legion. A summons, by the Ebon Blade - by the Lich King. It wasn't a compulsion, at least not at the moment. But it was a nagging that put him ill at ease.

Something was wrong. Something that stank of grave rot, and lashed out with the bitterest cold.

Slowly, Zu'beh got to his feet. He leapt down from the pillar, landing on the wet stones with a quiet thud. It would've hurt his knees if he were still alive.

Took one last look at the Necropolis, the eyesockets of his mask alight with the icy blue light of undeath - and then he turned and walked away, back towards Dazar'alor...towards where he could find a ship sailing to the frigid north.

Trouble in the realms of death could mean trouble for mighty Bwonsamdi. And that, he could not accept. Bwonsamdi's ascendance would not be denied. Zu'beh would serve his Loa - however he had to.
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